


Corsage

by Moonsheen



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Bonus Drunk Pamitha, Bonus Rukey, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Party, Politics, Post-Canon, Power Couple, Union Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: Post-Liberation, in the new Sahrian Union, Volfred Sandalwood throws a very fancy ball. It goes about how you'd expect.





	Corsage

It was not that Volfred was particularly enamored with keeping up appearances, but the lunar new year had long been a holiday neglected by the Commonwealth in its stiff adherence to strictly the Astral calendar. It held cultural significance to many variations of the Cur faith, the Wyrms connected it with their tidal celebrations and spawning seasons, and even the Harps had their own observed holidays connected with it. As such, in his first year as Prime Minister of the newly named Sahrian Union, Volfred Sandalwood declared it a national holiday, and to prove the point declared one of the annual Union Summits would coincide with the celebrations, so that the council would appear to be in observance with it as well.  
  
The fact it took the form of a very lovely party in the old Hall of Justice was conciliatory. The old moderates who had served under the Commonwealth as regional ministers were mollified with the apparent imperial opulence, though Volfred had taken care to keep the benefit within budget, hire contractors from businesses that had been neglected under the old government, and make sure all of them were paid fairly -- thanks in part to discretionary funds donated by the newly formed Religions Commitee, who would be overseeing the fair treatment of the new Union's plentitude of newly legitimized faiths.  
  
A tricky venture, Volfred thought as he observed the festivities from the second floor balcony overlooking the Great Hall in all its decorated splendor. A largely successful one. He was particularly pleased to see the Harp delegation in deep conversation with the newly appointed ambassador to the Westerly Woods, with interjections from the squat alpha-chief Marla Broadjowels, whose family managed a railway system in the west. A connection he had been hoping to foster for some time. Rukey Greentail had invited Broadjowel.  Rukey himself was presnetly having a grand time playing host, dressed in his finest capes, his honestly purchased collars winking gemstones.  
  
"Gardening, Volfred?"

Volfred turned away from the balcony, holding one arm along the rail to hide the fact his roots did not take well to the slick marble floors. Councilman Oralech was equally unsteady as he approached, relying heavily on his cane as he joined him. His as of yet lingering hooves did not too well on slick floors, and he had too much pride to drop to all fours and prowl along as he might have in the Downside. His dress uniform could certainly have taken it. A shock of white with silver and black trim, Volfred had seen to it that it would be tailored for Oralech's current anatomical requirements as well as for appearances, but Oralech seemed as reluctant to test that as he had been to wear it in the first place  
  
"At this hour?" asked Volfred, innocently. "Why councilman, I've no idea your meaning."  
  
Oralech snorted as he settled his arms along the railing beside him, glaring down at the proceedings with his own particular judgements. "You have been playing politics all evening. Do not speak to me like one of your new bulbs. I see you admiring them, all lined up as you'd planned."  
  
"Apologies," said Volfred, "I do forget myself in times like this… Yes, I suppose an enterprise of this nature does take similar logistical care. You must forgive me for taking some pride in it.  It has gone better than I'd hoped. I think the Lady Coralbed may be open to discussing shipping routes, should she have a good enough time."  
  
"Provided she does not blame you you for her hangover in the morning," said Oralech.

"Surely you do not think I have influence over how much alcohol my guests choose to imbibe."  
  
"I put nothing past you," said Oralech, "and I see how you arranged the punch."

Quite near the Wyrm delegation, as it happened, and attended by an especially flirtatious Pamitha Theyn.  
  
"...A fair point, councilman," said Volfred.  
  
To Volfred's relief, Oralech did not opt to vanish once voicing his typically blunt opinion, but rather lingered on the balcony beside him, watching the proceedings. He had escaped a genuine throng of interested parties. Everyone knew the Chief Physician occupied a particular place of importance in the new government -- with rumors of his "special" relationship with the new head of state already running rampant -- and thus he had not lacked for interested parties hoping to become his friend.  
  
"Still," said Oralech, and Volfred couldn't help but notice the way that the demon leaned over to have a look downwards -- then leaned away almost as quickly as he noticed the height. "I suppose there are worse ways to play politics, as bothersome as it is. If it is to be a show of arms, it is less ostentatious than a military parade. Or a raid on the border."  
  
"Less costly, too," said Volfred.  "In lives as well as funds."

"Hm," said Oralech, eyeing him with eyes that still yet had the look of embers in them, when he narrowed them just so. "A fine show of intention, then. Our battles must now be had over hors d'oeuvres and aged cheeses. But was that all, Volfred?"  
  
"In celebration of the movement of the moon through the heavens," mused Volfred. "...I felt I owed an old friend at least that much acknowledgement."  
  
"Ah," said Oralech. For a moment, the soft strum music echoed up through the great hall, but the band was a set of violins, not an ancient lute. "Business and sentiment. How like you."

"...I hope I have not left you at too much an inconvenience," said Volfred. "I fear in this I may have thrown you to the wolves  
  
"Spoken as though you did not know full well what would occur. You have dressed me like a commander!" said Oralech, shaking out his black and white military cloak and all its medals with some disdain. "I am surprised you did not suggest armor."

He wore a black leather jerkin as a substitute. The silver buttons, inlaid with images of the newly designed Union crest, had been Volfred’s idea of a finishing touch.  
  
"I noticed that the medical corps had no official parade uniform. I suppose owing to the fact you so seldom left the front. I am afraid the tailor did have to improvise from the designs for the other divisions," said Volfred, and Oralech's face said it all: Only you, Volfred Sandalwood, could sound so smug and apologetic at the same time!  
  
"And I thought it best suited your rank," added Volfred.  
  
That earned him a raised eyebrow. "They stripped me of my rank years ago and you know that."  
  
"And by old Commonwealth tradition you have returned from exile in glory," quoted Volfred, " all stripped from you returned and more."  
  
"Provided one wears a mask and sends others in their place," said Oralech. He shook his head. His magnificent white hair didn't tangle in his horns. Volfred had taken great care in gathering it up into a clean, high ponytail which flowed down the demon's back. "But I threw my pin aside before they sentenced me. I believe that is on record."  
  
"Along with the part where you told the Archjustice to go to the devil," said Volfred. "Yes, I reviewed that section many times."  
  
Oralech looked at him.

"...In the interest of preserving historical record," said Volfred, "and yes, before you asking, inflaming the masses. Yours was a case I never wanted to consign to oblivion. If the Commonwealth was base enough to call a man with such fine intentions a traitor, truly they themselves were aligned with only death and destruction."  
  
"Spoken like a publisher," sighed Oralech, but his mouth twitched into a faint smile. "Did you put that in your pamphlets."  
  
"Of course," said Volfred. "I wanted them to know about you. I want them to see you now, returned to end the war and save lives, as you'd always hoped."  
  
"’As I always’... fine words, Volfred Sandalwood. And the fact it also gives you an appearance of military legitimacy isn't part of it at all?"  
  
Volfred sighed. "A small factor, yes, I will admit, but will you believe at least I do want them to see you as a hero?"  
  
"Yes," said Oralech, so instantly it took Volfred off guard. The wicked glint in the demon’s eyes told Volfred he had just fallen victim to a good old fashioned ribbing. "If you had your way I would have to be the one hosting the damnable event."  
  
"I had hoped you'd run." They’d had this conversation many times, in the months leading to the first official election. It ended now as had then, with Oralech rolling his eyes.  
  
"This country is now your bed. It is well enough you sleep in it. Or in your garden, I suppose."  
  
Saps didn't have beds.

"And so I am sentenced to serve at least two honorable terms of civic service," said Volfred. He sighed. Down below, the string quartet packed up for a break in their set. A band of curs began a light howling service, as was customary to celebrate the new year. A few guests, Rukey and Pamitha among them, had found this a convenient time to slip away to some backroom, for more private business discussions.  
  
"And a life-time more of keeping this country from going to bad," added Oralech. Then, apropos to nothing, he wrapped his claws around the railing. His black gloves did little too hide the long talons that still grew in place of human nails.  "One of your fiddlers has gone missing."  
  
Volfred glanced down. The musicians were packing up behind the cur choir. Sure enough, they were a head short.  
  
"Ah," he said, excitedly. "So it has begun."  
  
"'It'?" asked Oralech. "Not an assassination attempt, I hope?"  
  
"Oh, no," said Volfred, clapping his hands together with a rather decisive tock. "Someone is about to try and rob the Office of Records. I've sent agents to intercept them. Care to join me?"  
  
"And see you cackle over it like a mandrake?" The demon rippled beneath his dress cloak as he pushed off the rail. "How could I refuse?"

 

* * *

  


They heard the commotion through the open door.  
  
"AY! GET KEEP YOUR DAMNED PAWS TO YOURSELF!"  
  
A familiar voice: "Hey, sis, you're the one who ain't supposed to be here."  
  
"I TOLD YOU! I WAS LOOKING FOR THE DAMNED LAV, HELL DOES NO ONE BELIEVE ME!"  
  
A second voice:  "Maybe because you picked a lock trying to find it?"  
  
They arrived just as the would-be thief jumped a desk to escape. Oralech held out an arm. The girl ran into it, forehead first. She landed on her back. In a moment, Pamitha, looking rather fetching in a dark red dress, was on her, wrapping her legs around the thief's neck to keep her from thrashing too hard on the floor.  
  
"Hey, Sandalwood," huffed Rukey, shaking out his left ear, which had turned inside out in the fray. "You didn't tell me anything about a beat down! You know I'm not the rough and tumble type. I hire my leg-breakers!"  
  
"Look, birdie, you got great tits," snarled the thief, whose face was presently lost under a shocking amount of black curls, now knocked free of their bun, "but you better let me go or I--"  
  
"Or what, darling?" asked Pamitha, leaning over a bit to shove said anatomy into the thief's face as she rolled her over and jammed her knee into the small of her back, keeping her down. "Thank you for the compliment, but you are costing me a wonderful date with some very fine wine, and I will expect you to make up the difference."  
  
"What the actual fuck," said the thief.  
  
"My doing, my girl," said Volfred, mildly. Once it was clear the girl was secured, Oralech shifted out of the door to allow Volfred to make his entrance, hands steepled and routes almost perfectly stable on the carpet. "My apologies for the roughness, but I did ask that they detain you in this room if possible. I wanted to have a word with you before security caught you. It would become official business as soon as they get to you."  
  
"You." The thief goggled. "Ain't you the head honcho?"  
  
Oralech made a distinctive snort that meant he was trying not to laugh.

"I am Volfred Sandalwood, the current Prime Minister of the Sahrian Union, that is correct," said Volfred, patiently. "Might I ask your name?"  
  
"I suggest you answer," sang Pamitha, but at a gesture from Volfred she fell silent. No need to play that game just yet.  
  
"I just simply would like to know who you are," said Volfred. "You are not under arrest."  
  
"Britta Redbane," said the girl.  
  
"Moira Ignatius," said Volfred, instantly, with a distance look in his eyes that meant he was reading more than just her expression. "Good evening. I do hope you have enjoyed our meeting of the minds.”  
  
The girl had a dark complexion, but for a moment she went white as a sheet.  
  
Oralech glanced at him. "Volfred," he said, softly.  
  
"...Ah, my dear, forgive me. it was written all over her," said Volfred, ruefully. He did try not to whip that one out too often. "But I did do some research. You are with the Seven Stars Troupe, though that is the name under which our vendors hired you for this engagement, is that correct?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Moira.  
  
"Do let her up," instructed Volfred. Pamitha eased her legs. Moira twisted out from under her. She had a clear look like she wanted to run again, but one look at Oralech by the door was enough to give her pause.  Volfred continued, while the girl checked for any side exits. "You're one of the most highly sought after groups in the capital. In part because you are genuinely talented, but in part because you also have an interesting habit of pulling off some of the most finely planned robberies of this decade."

The girl said nothing, but her chin came up just a touch in barely restrained pride.  
  
"That's a funny idea, governor," she said.  
  
"I quite agree," said Volfred, "especially considering this job is hardly to your caliber. Burglarize the old Office of Records during a banquet in the Hall of Justice. That is hardly ostentatious or impossible, and, in fact, such things have even been done before, though not under this government."  
  
Rukey at this point puffed up. "Hey, hey, I only took a COUPLE of those nice sheets before I booked it. I liked the feel of 'em!"  
  
"Shh," said Pamitha. "I want to see where he's going with this."  
  
"Where the hell ARE you going with this?" asked Moira, now sitting cross-legged and cross-armed. Her nice musicians clothes were all in a disarray now, one arm tucked up to show up the considerable tattoos running from her wrists to her elbows. "Supposing I was trying to rob the place. WHICH YOU DON'T KNOW."  
  
"I'm suggesting," said Volfred, "that if you were looking for the records of those who were exiled while doing the job you were hired for, I'm afraid those records were moved to the National Archives, and your employer would have known that."  
  
"OH THAT MOTHERFUCKER," said Moira, standing up with a roar.

She was tall for a human, though Volfred still had more than a head on her. Knocked out of its bun, her hair fell to about her waist. Oralech took one look at her and had a particular Revelation. Then, all at once, he began to laugh.  
  
"Ignatius," he said.  
  
"What?!" said the girl. "What is it?"  
  
But the demon just shook his head. "Ignatius," he said again. "Of course."  
  
"What?!" the girl looked around in confusion.  
  
"Don't look at ME, sis," said Rukey.  
  
Volfred gave Oralech a fond glance. "So we come to it," he said. "I'm afraid your employer has quite set you up. They probably hoped to force an arrest on the night of the party, after having made you plant information that would looking completely damning to those who perhaps are not overly fond of my administration."  
  
"Oh, pray, Volfred, tell me who that is!" said Oralech, who had recovered -- then he looked at Moira again and lost it all over again.  
  
Having a giant laughing demon in the door was a bit of an unnerving situation. The girl shifted uneasily.  
  
"I mean, fine, yeah, it was about  thatshady," she said, finally, "but I'm no idiot."  
  
"If you mean your plan for escaping custody, I certainly applaud that," said Volfred. "One of our guardsman did report in late this morning. One of yours, I am assuming?"  
  
Moira glared.  
  
"Allow me to get to the point," said Volfred. "If the real purpose of taking this frankly insulting job was to find out what happened to your father, I would be more than willing to provide you with those records myself."

There. He had her. The girl's eyes went wide, then narrow, then she looked away, rubbing the back of her head as she let her jaw grind.  
  
"Yeah, and I suppose you'll say you'll do it if I give up my piece of shit client, that it?"  
  
"It is a possible scenario."  
  
"And then you arrest me anyway and lock me away?"  
  
"For what?" asked Volfred. "From what I can tell, you have yet to commit a crime on these premises. Successfully at any rate."  
  
"Aw hell," said the girl. "You're one of THOSE! You talk all fancy, to confuse folks like me into agreeing with whatever crap you’re peddlin’.  Next you'll be telling me you actually know where the old man is!"  
  
Volfred tilted his head.  
  
"We have some vague idea of his current location, yes,” said Volfred, who was already composing the letter to Captain Jodariel. “I have met him, in my time in the Downside."  
  
The girl froze.  
  
"And what reason do I have to believe THAT?"  
  
"None at all," said Volfred. "Faith, if you must know, is always--"  
  
"He has a tattoo on his neck of a ribbon and a kiss mark," said Oralech, instantly, "and another one his knuckles, and a fourth of a heart on his chest, which says ‘7 STRS.’ He never did learn to read."  
  
It was Volfred's turn to go still.  
  
"You were taking too long," said Oralech.

"When did you learn about the chest tattoo?" asked Volfred. He couldn't help but ask.  
  
"The Tempers came upon us at a hotspring in Black Basin," said Oralech. "They saw no reason we shouldn't share the premises the day before the Rite. Ignarius was never one to care much about his state of undress. It annoyed Brighton to no end."  
  
"I… wow," said Rukey.  
  
"Well, we missed some fun," said Pamitha.  
  
The memory made the demon grin. His teeth were still very long and pointy. Moira edged back, just a touch, but, when she looked back at Volfred, she dropped her hands to her side.  
  
"All right," said Moira. "I believe you.You’ve seen him. But what now?"  
  
"Well, my girl, that's now up to you," said Volfred, gently. "Why don't you tell me a bit about this job offer you received..."

 

* * *

  
There wasn't much to tell, Moira swore up and down. She hadn't met whoever it was in person, the go-between had been a hooded wyrm, and they'd paid in old Sol, and showed an old minister's ring to prove they at least had some legitimacy to their claims.  
  
Which narrowed it down instantly.  
  
"Minister Dario was the overseer of the Wyrm brigades in the war," said Oralech. "Knight-Commander Seafoam was his liaison in my age."  
  
"And Knight Commander Seaglass, his immediate predecessor, was exiled for fostering a private army," mused Volfred. "Did you ever encounter Commander Seaglass? In your time among the Nightwings?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge," said Oralech.  
  
"Then she either died or returned in glory," said Volfred. "The justices did have a Wyrm in their Azure seat. I always wondered who served as Voice of the Pyrehearts. They were one of the ones who fled."  
  
"...while Dario welcomed us, penitent," said Oralech, understanding. "Or so he claimed. So you think he may lead us to her."  
  
"I think, certainly, he has shown his hand," said Volfred, "in this little attempt at burglary."  
  
They walked back to the party. The violins had resumed. Moira had rejoined her group, her hair once more piled into an even more disheveled bun. She fiddled as hard as she could, and tried not to look at the Prime Minister and Chief Physician as they walked back into the Great Hall, though everyone else turned to soak them in. They were a striking pair: Volfred still sporting his academic blacks, and Oralech in white cloak.

"Spirited girl," remarked Oralech, in between the necessary greetings and well wishes. "Are you certain she won't bolt as soon as the party ends?"  
  
"I think we have already helped her with answers to questions she has had for most of her life. I expect she’ll want more. I’d like to arrange a communication with her father, if possible," said Volfred.

 He graciously accepting a basin of water as he beckoned Oralech to sit beside him at one of the many tables arranged in the hall.  
  
[And Dario will be the one more likely to run, once he realizes the girl won't be arrested for her misdeeds.] He added, for only Oralech to hear.  
  
[Run to his master, you think?] thought Oralech, allowing Volfred in with little more than a fond mental shrug.  
  
([With Rukey and Pamitha hot on his trail] added Volfred. And Rukey more than a little disappointed to relinquish his status as life of the party, but he liked being on the Union’s good side, and felt guilty about that Downside trade deal he thought Volfred didn’t know about.  
  
"A fine party, isn't it?" said Volfred out-loud.  
  
Oralech rolled his eyes. "I have certainly suffered through worse in this world. This uniform you have put me in is ridiculous."  
  
"But you look so dashing, my dear," said Volfred.  
  
Oralech caught Volfred's hand under the table.  
  
[...you have put me in it, I expect you to take me out of it.] thought Oralech, with a particularly fierce stab of want.  
  
"...I suppose these things have their benefits," added Oralech, stone-faced.  
  
Volfred spilled his water basin, but that did very little to spoil the rest of the night.  


  



End file.
